


You Owe Me

by TheDogSays



Series: Fell In Summer [1]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Dinner, HIV/AIDS, Hook-Up, M/M, Skype, Storytelling, Teen Angst, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:51:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDogSays/pseuds/TheDogSays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rusty has a crush.<br/>Buzz keeps a secret.<br/>Morales does them both a favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“So...”

It was a bit like worlds colliding. Before now Dr. Morales had only really existed within the parameters of work. Buzz thought it was best that way, to keep his work and his life as far away from one another as possible. Now he was here, in jeans and an old U of C t-shirt, sitting on his kitchen counter, wine glass dangling between his fingers.

“...You owe me a story,” he said.

“I thought I owed you dinner?” He put a pot of water on the stove to boil and went back to cutting vegetables.

“Nope. Dinner and an explanation. About the whole thing,” he said. “I mean, I am risking my license...”

“I told Rusty I wouldn’t.”

Morales pouted. “But I love gossip. And I promise, I'm awesome at keeping secrets.”

And there was just something about his easy smile. “I shouldn’t.”

“Oh come on.”

He sighed. “Ok. So...”

 

* * *

 

“I miss you.”

It was a voice that Buzz didn’t recognize. The office was empty except for the two of them. Him and Rusty. Sharon was upstairs meeting with Taylor. The rest of the team was out canvasing. The voice was faint. So if the office had been it’s usual loud self he might have missed it.  

Rusty groaned. And the voice laughed.

“What? I do. I miss you. And this isn’t exactly a champagne way to spend the summer.”

The voice it was canned. Coming from Rusty’s laptop, mostly likely, and wafting up over the cubicle wall. Or at least that was what Buzz was telling himself. Because admitting to active eavesdropping... well, he’d never.

“So how is your  Dad’s place?” Rusty said to the voice.

Buzz had a sudden flash of being ten years old, his mother waggling a finger at him. Telling him, “You know better than to stick your darling little nose where it doesn’t belong, Buzzie!” But apparently he didn’t.

The voice said, “It blows. Don’t change the subject.”

“I thought Portland was supposed to be, like, the cultural epicenter of the Pacific Northwest or whatever.”

“...Well, ok, it only mostly blows. There’s some stuff to do. But I don’t know anyone and The Step Fucker is horrible and  I just keep wishing you were here and...”

Rusty snorted and laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”

Buzz wondered if he’d always been this way. Not a voyeur, per se. But chronically nosey. An active snoop, maybe? Silently, Buzz pushed his chair right up to the cubicle wall.

“You know, there’s three whole weeks between the end of summer classes and fall. You could-”

“Josh, I already told you. There’s no way. I can’t.”

“Yeah, I know. Super mysterious top secret murder case. Witness protection. Yakuza out to get you...”

Maybe it was an occupational hazard. A symptom of being a professional watcher. He couldn’t decide which was more depressing. Josh. Josh. He mouthed name silently to himself. Between playing taxi and tutor Buzz had met most of Rusty’s friends. He couldn’t remember a Josh.

“So Yakuza this time, huh?”

Buzz wondered if maybe he’s seen the kid around. He must have been important to Rusty if he’d told him about being in protective custody. He knew it was something that Rusty held close the vest. And very slowly, so not to make a sound, Buzz stood from his chair and crept toward the edge of the divider..  

“Yeah, well, you won’t tell me anything else. And Dad always said I had an overactive imagination, so...”

“I like it. It’s definitely more glamorous than the truth. And I do want to tell you. I want to tell you everything. But...”

The voice was genuinely contrite. “God, I shouldn’t have said anything. Now you look all sad and-”

“No,” Rusty sighed. “I’m not. I just...”

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Nothing. I just hate keeping things from you. And it’s, like, tiresome, you know?”

Buzz held his breath and peered around the corner. Rusty was slumped in front of his Macbook. And framed on the screen, in a skype window, there was a boy about Rusty’s age. Dark frizzed out hair. Square hipster sunglasses. A t-shirt with the sleeves hacked off. Sunburned shoulders. He was sitting on what looked like an apartment balcony. He shook his head. He gave Rusty a shy smile. And his voice dropped to a whisper

“Would it make you not sad if...  There’s no one else home. I could go to my room and...” Even from far away Buzz could see the boy turn a furious shade of pink. “I mean, that was fun last time, right?”

The inappropriateness of it, of his watching, of Rusty doing, well, whatever it was he was doing, the fact that he was doing it on a computer owned by the state, it kind of made Buzz feel queasy. But then Rusty laughed. And it was such a rare sound. Buzz couldn’t keep from smiling himself.

“Maybe you’ve forgotten,” said Rusty. “But I am in a police station.”

“Yeah, but you’re not pouting anymore.”

“Shut up. I don’t pout.”

“Yes you do. Who’s the dude?”

“What?”

“Behind you.”

The boy, Josh, looked Buzz dead in the eye and gave him a goofy wave.

“Holy shit.” Rusty slammed the macbook shut. “What do you want?” he snapped.

“Um...,” Buzz was the adult in the situation. And he knew that this was probably the part where he was supposed to serve up a lecture about studying and using other peoples things or responsible behavior or whatever. But instead he said, “I’m going to do... something. Run an errand. I’ll be back in an hour.” And with that Buzz turned on his heel, grabbed his coat on his way past his desk.

“But I’m not supposed to be alone.”

“I’ll be back soon.” Buzz took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

 

* * *

”Dude?” Morales laughed. “I’m so glad that web cams weren’t a thing when I was a teenager.”

“I know, right?” Though he didn’t really. Buzz hadn’t even dared look at another guy until his sophomore year of college. And even then it had taken a lot of vodka before he cheated on his then girlfriend and tumbled into bed with his roommate, Scott.

It was clear from the way Morales smirked and  tossed back his wine that he hadn’t had that problem. “At the same time,” he said, “I think I might be jealous.”

“The poor kid. He was so so embarrassed,” said Buzz. “And I mean, I have to see him everyday. I thought he was going to hate me.”

 

* * *

 

“Ok, so look here. Your decimals are all off. You should review that chapter on-”

Rusty scowled at him. “Are you going to tell her?” he hissed.

“Tell who what?”

He slammed his palms down on the table. And Buzz made a mental note not to let Rusty watch the feeds from the interrogation rooms anymore.  “You know who. Sharron. Are you going to tell her about-”

“Josh?” Buzz said evenly.

“Look,” Rusty leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. “He’s just a friend. So it doesn’t matter anyway. So there’s no reason to tell-”

“Friend?” Buzz scoffed and held up a hand to stop him. “No, I won’t say anything to Sharron. It’s not for me to tell.”

Rusty sighed and raked back his hair.

“However...”

Buzz and his last partner had parted way on the subject of kids. Partner. Boyfriend. He wasn’t sure when he’d started saying partner. It wasn’t just kids. It was some other things too. They had been together seven years. But when Buzz told him that really, he was completely certain, he did not want kids he had packed a suitcase and left. Yet there he was, correcting algebra problems and having this conversation.

“I’m sure I don’t need to say this. But I will anyway. I hope you’re being responsible and using...”

Now it was Rusty who laughed. “He’s a jewish boy at a catholic high school and I’m never alone for more than ten minutes. We haven’t really made it to the, um, responsible stuff yet.”

“Oh. Ooh...”

It made his chest ache, sometimes. Rusty was so young. And he’d seen so much. But just then, just in that moment, Rusty shook his hair down over his eyes and he was a nervous and normal young man.

“Well then. You should also probably keep the skype chats G rated.” said Buzz. “The machine is owned by the state and-”

“Yeah, yeah...” Rusty rolled his eyes. And they went back to working on algebra.

 

* * *

 

Morales topped off Buzz’s wine glass and then his own. “So, wait. You really do that? The tutoring thing. Everyday.”

“Yup.”  Buzz finished with the vegetables and scooped them into a pan on the stove.

“Do you at least get overtime?”

“Overtime? You’re hilarious.”

“And you gave him The Talk. That’s so freaking cute.”

 

* * *

 

“Where is Rusty?”

In LA, it was easy to miss the transition between seasons. He didn’t hear about Josh the rest of the summer. Then there was Chris. And then there wasn’t. Sometimes he would catch Rusty scowling at him, begging for a challenge, daring him to say something. Or he would blurt out “What?” in moments of pause and Buzz would just hold up his hands in surrender because it wasn’t like he had his gold star. He couldn’t really judge. Then it happened. All of a sudden. Rusty was in the office all the time. And then he wasn’t.

“Summer school’s over” Sharron said. “He’ll be spending the rest of the break at home, until the regular semester starts.”

“So I can do my actual job?” Buzz said wryly.

Sharon gave him a curt smile. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were disappointed.”

“No. No,” said Buzz, “Just curious.” And he’d gone back to his job, his actual job, back to murder and mayhem and enhancing crappy security camera feeds. And he reminded himself that at least for a little while wouldn’t have to check algebra problems.

 

* * *

 

“You’re one of those guys who only knows how to cook pasta, aren’t you?”

“No.”

He dropped a handful of linguini in the water. Added tomato paste and stalk to the vegetables in the pan. Buzz had done all the cooking when he and his partner, boyfriend, no partner were still together. Even when Buzz came home late he would cook for him. Even when he was tired and it was inconvenient he would cook because it made the apartment warm and it was an excuse to sit close to him and do normal couple things and hear about his normal day at the graphic design firm, where no one ever died horribly or pulled guns or cried because their loved one had died. It had just been a while since he cooked for someone else. He felt out of practice so he was keeping it simple.

“I don’t know why I’m complaining. It smells good and it’s not take out, which is what I’d usually be having for dinner, so...”

“Thanks, I think.”

Morales nudged him with his foot. “So why do you think he went to you and not Sharon?”

“I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

“Can I talk to you,” said Rusty. “Like, in private?”

Buzz ushered him into the viewing room. He’d come into the office with Sharon, to “visit” which was an only vaguely plausible excuse. They’d formed this family around him, yes. But no teenager just came to “visit” the LAPD when they had and empty apartment and cable at their fingertips. It figured that he needed something.

“So...” With a click Rusty pulled the door shut and cut out the rest of the office. “Josh comes home next week.“

Buzz crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t sound very... enthused,” he said. And this was why didn’t think he was suited for fatherhood. It was such a thin line between helpful and detrimental. Rusty’s eyes were wide and grave looking. And Buzz didn’t want to have make decisions that shaped young minds.

“I am. I just... He keeps talking about...” Rusty stared at his shoes. His hands uncurled and curled into fists at his sides. “It doesn’t matter. The thing is. I haven’t gotten tested since I came to stay with Sharon. And there’s this free clinic I used to go to. I just can’t get there without an escort and...” Suddenly Rusty’s eyes were brimming up with tears and his voice was spiralling into panic. “I don’t want to get Josh into something bad. And I don’t want to ask Sharon or try to go by myself. I just... If you could just give me a ride... Oh my god, this is so embarrassing. What am I doing?”

“Whoa, take a breath,” he said. “We'll figure it out. Just calm down, ok?”

He sniffed and nodded. Buzz picked up the phone and punched in Sharon’s extension.

“What are you doing?”

“Get your jacket and meet me at the elevator.” She answered on the third ring “Sharon?”

He watched terror flash quick and bright across Rusty’s face. Buzz pressed his hand over the receiver. “Wait for me by the elevators,”  he said and put the phone back to his ear. “Yeah, I’m going to lunch. I thought I might take Rusty along?”

Rusty let out a soft ‘oh’ and he was out the door like a shot.

“Yeah.... Ok... We’ll be back in and hour.”

Rusty met him at the elevator with his hoodie on and a grim expression. The elevator was there in seconds and as soon as the doors were closed Buzz hit the button for the basement.

“That’s not how you get to the parking garage.”

“Have some faith. I have a plan.”

The elevator went down and down and finally shuttered to a stop. The doors pulled back on an arrow shaped sign that read Mourgue and Rusty backed up against the far metal wall.

“What the actual fuck?”

 

* * *

 

“You know, when you said to come over for dinner I kind of thought that your, um... Shit, I’m sorry. I’ve completely lost his name...”

“Eric. Yeah... Things didn’t work out.”

“Oh?” And morales didn’t say any of the normal consolatory things. He didn’t make sad eyes and tell him that “That was such a shame,” and “It was his loss”. Instead he asked. “How long?”

Buzz shrugged. “Eight, maybe ten months?”

 

* * *

 

“If  I do this, no one else can know,” said Morales. “And this is the only time. It’s can’t become a regular thing. I could lose my license, you understand?”

Rusty nodded.

He’d told Rusty to let him do the talking. And Buzz had launched into this whole pitch. “...he was technically a medical doctor, and he did blood tests in house all the time and couldn’t he please...” But before he could get it all out Morales was already pulling open drawers, pulling out needles and vials.

“Hop up on the counter,” he said to Rusty. “Roll up your sleeve.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It was Rusty who had really needed the convincing. “So, I won’t go in, like, a database if it turns out that I’ve got-”

Morales shook his head and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. “This is completely off the books. And if you haven’t been with anyone since the last time you were screened I’m sure the results will be the same.”

“But I heard viruses can be, like, dormant or something for a long time and then show up later and...”

Morales put his hands on Rusty’s shoulders and it was a small marvel that Rusty let him. “What you’re doing,” he said. “It’s very grown up. And very brave. We’ll cross that bridge _if_ we come to it. But for now we’re going to be optimistic, ok?”

“Optimistic.” Rusty nodded in agreement. “I just... you don’t put, like, dead stuff on this counter, do you?”

“No,” he laughed. “No dead stuff. Now sit.”

 

* * *

 

Earlier that day he’d walked up to Buzz’s desk and thrown a plain white envelope down on his keyboard. “I didn’t want to email it,” he said. “All the paperwork is gunna be greek to a 17 year old anyway. So just tell him he’s ok, ok?”

“Great. I’ll let him know.”

“I’ve also decided that you owe me,” he said. “Dinner and expensive alcohol. Well, I’ll settle for mid range. Whatever. Tonight. Email me the details.” And without another word or room for argument he’d turned on his heel and walked away.

Now Morales was staring into his water spotted wine glass and kicking his feet against the cupboard doors.  “You really are one of the good guys, Buzz.”

“I don’t know about that...” he said. “I mean, it’s not that big a deal.”

No one would say that he wasn’t part of the team. Buzz had a badge. And his cameras. And his room with it’s too many monitors. And he served a purpose. When he was a kid Buzz had wanted to be a director. And most days what he did felt noble. But others he was just the guy with the camera who tagged along. There was no gun beside his badge and he didn’t catch bad guys. He just watched them.

“Oh come on.” Morales rolled his eyes. “If I’d had someone to that for me when I was that age, someone who understood... My life would have been a lot different. It would be a big deal.”

“Anyone from the department would have done the exact same thing.”

“Like I said. One of the good guys.” And after a long silence Morales leaned precariously off the counter and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.

Buzz stiffened at the touch and let out a soft, “Oh.”

“Christ. Shit.” Morales pulled away fast, his cheeks a furious shade of pink. He covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why-”

“No.” Buzz touched his elbow. And it was so chaste that is bordered on ridiculous. He smiled at him, shyly. “It’s ok.”

“Thank God.” Morales grabbed a fistfull of his shirt and pulled Buzz into a rough kiss.

Morales waist was slight and his hips fit easily in his hands. His hair was soft and Buzz didn’t know how much he’d wanted to run his hands through it until just that moment. He hooked a leg over Buzz’s hip, drawing him closer still. Cologne only barely masked the smell of the lab, industrial cleaners and stainless steel. He slipped his hands up and under the hem of the old t-shirt to find smooth skin and a fine trail of hair above the waist of his jeans. Buzz caught his bottom lip between his teeth. Morales let out a soft whine as he raked his nails over his ribs.

“Are we really doing this?” he said breathlessly.

Morales was already working open the buttons on his shirt. "Yeah, why not?"

“What about dinner?” Buzz asked.

“You’ll still owe me.”


	2. Chapter 2

"Well..."

His house was small and coral colored. A low wrought iron gate separated the tiny yard from the cracked pavement and passing traffic. Mothes circled the porch light. Their wings sizzled when they got to close. Morales leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“...you look horrible”

It had been six weeks. And here he was, asking for another favor.  So Buzz couldn’t be bothered to dispute it.

“I, I’m sorry,” he said lamely.

Morales rolled his eyes. He was wearing flannel pajamas and a cotton t-shirt that left a bare quarter inch of his stomach exposed. Buzz couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“Well, come in, I guess.” He stepped aside and ushered Buzz through the door. 

* * *

The kid had been hard to recognize in the school uniform. Dark curly hair. Worried eyes. He was tall for his age. Taller than Rusty. His backpack hung from one shoulder. It was covered in patches and ironic buttons.

Flynn eyed the boy suspiciously. “Can we help you?”

* * *

The second he stepped through the door Buzz was rushed by an enormous dog; a squashed face thing, tall enough that it’s paws reached Buzz’s shoulders, with particularly large teeth. It’s breath was hot and it licked Buzz’s face, up one side and down the other. Morales didn’t seem phased by this.

“Don’t worry. Anna’s all bark,” he said, collaring the dog, and pulling it back to the floor. Buzz wiped his face with his sleeve. “You should consider yourself lucky though. She usually hates the guys I bring home.”

* * *

“I hope so,” said the boy. “Rusty hasn’t been in school for a while. So I got his homework.” He fished a stack of papers from his backpack. “I didn’t know where else to bring it.”

The whole division stared blankly back at him. 

* * *

Buzz let out a breath and watched the dog retreat to an overstuffed sofa in the front room. 

“Did you find the place Ok?”

The space wasn’t decorated as much as it was lived in. Bookshelves lined every wall, but there was no Television. The light was soft and yellow. He’d gotten lost on the way there. It wasn’t a neighborhood he’d ever been to before. All the street names and shop signs were in spanish. And sure he could read them. But it wasn’t exactly helpful. “Yeah. Kind of... far, but yeah.”

Morales laughed. “I think the words you're looking for are Not White.”

* * *

After a long moment Flynn took the stack of papers from the boys clammy fingers. “I’ll be sure he gets it.”

“Is he ok?” the boy asked. “He’s not answering my texts. And he hasn’t been online for a few days.”

“Rusty’s been... under the weather.” Flynn’s face split into a forced smile. So much had come to light since they whisked Rusty away. The letters. The boys who’d been bothering him at school. They were suspicious of everyone now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

* * *

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I just... I couldn’t spend another night alone in my apartment.”

“So you thought you’d come mope here?”

“I guess. Though I’m surprised you said yes after-.”

“Oh, so we’re talking about it?” Morales said evenly.

It was hard to look him in the eye.

“I was a jerk,” he said.

“Yes. Yes, you were.” He patted Buzz cheek and pulled him into a hug. “But you’ve been granted a temporary reprieve.”

“From?”

“Me, being hurt and utterly fucking furious with you.”

* * *

The boys eyes went wide with terror as he shook Provenza’s hand. “Sorry, I’m Josh. I don’t know if he...”

Flynn chimed in. “Rusty  never mentioned you,” he said, his voice clipped and hard. It was the same tone he heard them use every day during interrogations. And Buzz could only sit there silently, heart lodging itself in his throat.

“We’re... friends. We play chess together.”

“Well,” said Provenza. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it”

“Rusty’s not sick, is he?” Josh twisted the strap on his backpack between his hands. “It’s about the letters, isn’t it? And the trial?  And -- and what Rusty was doing before?  What happened?”

* * *

“So, I heard bits and pieces. How much of it is true?”

“Oh, so I’m the talk of the water cooler, huh?”

Morales disappeared into his kitchen. The great dog was staring at him and took up most of the sofa. So he opted not to sit and inspected the bookshelves instead.

“It's not like that.“ Morales called back. “People are just interested. You know, you weren’t the only one who got personally invested.”

One case was packed end to end with medical references.

“I didn’t mean to, though.”

Another housed a smattering of novels, mostly classics: Hemingway, Vonnegut, Baldwin, Dickinson.

“We never mean to. No one ever means to.”

His diplomas were stacked in their leather folios on top of a collection of Faulkner.

“And that kid, he really stormed the department?”

Propped against the books there were framed photos.

“Not exactly.”

“Poor thing. I can’t imagine. Especially for someone so young. Everything’s so hyperbolic at that age.”

There was one of the dog. Another of Morales and a young man. The young man wore a university graduation robe and Morales wore a suit. They were hugging and smiling.

* * *

Interest piqued, people began to crowd around. Suddenly the whole division was facing down this boy.

“I don’t know what Rusty told you about his situation,” said Provenza. “But we’re not at liberty to discuss-”

It must have taken every ounce of bravery in his slight teenaged frame, but Josh raised his chin stared right down their muzzles.

“He told me everything. And I don’t care,” he said, voice beginning to waver. “Just tell me if he’s ok.” 

* * *

Morales reappeared beside him. “That incredibly handsome young man,” he said, “Is my little brother. He got his MFA last year.”

“What was he studying?” Buzz mostly asked because it was what you were supposed to ask. But it was worth it to watch Morales face light up.

“English. Literature. He starts teaching in the spring, some state university in Oklahoma or Nebraska or someplace like that. I’m gonna miss him. But I’m absurdly proud.’

He couldn’t manage more than a weary smile in return.

* * *

“Young man, you might want to watch it with the demands-” Provenza snapped.

“But-”

“You’ve done what you came here to do. Now I suggest-”

“Please?” he said weakly

Provenza was not a yelling man. But in the moment he erupted. “No! Now do I have to call security?”

Josh recoiled. Flynn put a hand on his friends shoulder to calm him. Provenza had taken it harder than all of them, maybe even Sharon. Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry I just wanted...”

* * *

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about your family.”

“We’re not really close. Except for me and Jonathan. He’s a good kid. But you didn’t come here to talk about my family” Morales turned away and clunked two coffee mugs full of ice down on his coffee table. “Don’t laugh because I don’t have real glassware. Also, I hope you like whiskey.” 

* * *

“...I just want to know if he’s ok,” the boy pleaded. “Or if I’m ever going to see  him again. Please...”

“We don’t know,”  Buzz said softly. “The truth is we don’t know,” And suddenly all eyes were on him; the crying boy, his stone faced coworkers, they all stunned silent. “We’re just as much in the dark as you are.”

No one noticed. But the commotion had brought Sharon out of her office. “Buzz? What’s going on here?” 

* * *

“Anna, down.” The dog gave him a malevolent look and slunk down to the floor. Morales poured. “They’re saying Sharon fired you.”

“No.” Buzz collapsed into the sofa. “But the rest of the department is ready to lynch me.”

“So what did you say? What did she say?” Morales proffered a full mug. There was an illustration of an octopus printed on the side. Buzz took a long draw before answering.The whiskey was cheap and sweet and burned going down. Buzz winced and Morales giggled and sipped his own with a straight face.

“I didn’t say anything about you,” said Buzz. “I mean, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’m not. But it’s comforting.”

“I told her that Rusty met a boy that he liked. I found out. He asked me not to tell. So I kept his secret. Because teenagers deserve to have secrets.”

“God,” Morales sighed. “It’s really that mundane isn’t it?”

“I didn’t know it would get so out of hand.”

“You can’t think like that. Drink instead.” 

* * *

Sharon pulled the tearful boy into her office first. And they went back to work. Except now, no one would talk to or even look at Buzz. It could have been hours or minutes. But the boy emerged with his face tear streaked and his head hung. Sharon seemed caught between pity and her own sadness. People kept their eyes on their work as she  patted the boy on the shoulder and filed him past. But then they came to Buzz’ desk and the boy stopped.

“You’re that guy, aren’t you?”

Buzz nodded and swallowed hard.  

“Rusty said you were ok. So thank you, for telling me.”

“Rusty spoke pretty highly of you. And your friendship meant a lot to him.” He shrugged. “ I thought you should know.”

Sharon cleared her throat. “You can find your way back out?”

It took a beat for kid to realize that that was his cue to leave he scurried off.  As soon as he was out of earshot Sharon turned on him.

“Office. Now.” 

* * *

So he did. Buzz drank. And he ranted and cursed. And he apologized over and over. And Morales steadily topped off his mug with the octopus on the side. And when he was feeling a little fuzzier and a lot braver Buzz pulled Morales feet into his lap.

“I spent so much time with him. I don’t know how I missed it.”

He eased off one dusty white socks and let it drop to floor.

“The letters were right there, ten feet from my desk and... ” The left one followed.

Morales rolled his eyes and sighed and stretched out putting his head on the armrest and propping his half empty mug on his chest.

“And what? You were supposed to psychically detect that there was something wrong?”

Buzz pressed his thumb along the rough pink arch of his foot. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

He let out a soft happy hum. “You have no idea how good that feels.” 

* * *

He told her everything. And he expected shouting. Berating. A lecture like only she could give. But instead she was silent for a long time after.

“Do you think we were fooling ourselves?” Sharon asked. 

* * *

“I just keep thinking, there had to have been something I could have-”

“Hey.” Morales reached up and tipped Buzz’ chin so he could look him in the eye. “Rusty made a choice. A terrible choice that had painful consequences. There was nothing you or anyone else could have done.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

“I know.” And Morales pulled him down and kissed him softly. 

* * *

“I’m sorry?” said Buzz.

“Do you think we were fooling ourselves?” Sharon stared into her tightly clasped hands. “We tried to give him something normal. Or at least a chance at something normal. And if he was just another boy this would be nothing. This would just be a school crush that ended badly. But he’s not and we were so foolish to think-”

“No. It wasn’t foolish. It was right. I mean, I think we tried to do what was right.”

“That’s the operative word, isn’t it? Tried.”

* * *

”We are not having sex,” said Morales. But kept kissing him anyway.

“I really am sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t call... Well I do. But I am sorry.”

“No.” He smiled against Buzz’ lips. “I mean we’re not having sex here. On my sofa. While you’re all, you know... maudlin and cliche.”

“Hey!” He wasn’t usually a sloppy drunk. But now things were slurring together. Buzz lazily mouthed along the line of his jaw, kissed his throat and the point of his chin. “I am not cliche.”

“What do you say we put this day to bed?”

“Mhm, yes. Bed. Good idea.”

“I mean to sleep it off.”

* * *

“Do I still have a job?” he’d asked Sharon.

“Of course,” she sniffed, and straightened some papers on her already orderly desk. “Now, please close the door on your way out.”

Her voice had cracked. And if he were braver he would have reached across the desk and taken her hand. But instead he did as he was told.

* * *

Buzz only barely made it up the stairs. Getting out of his cloths was and even more confounding feat. And Morales laughed and helped him fumble the buttons on his shirt.

“I never would have taken you for such a lightweight.”

With some assistance Buzz stripped to his boxers and practically fell into bed.

“Where are you sleeping?” he said into the pillow. It was hard to keep his eyes open

“Don’t be such a prude.”

He heard the snap of the light switch and the room went dark. Then the unfamiliar mattress dipped as Morales slipped into bed beside him.

* * *

It all happened too fast for goodbyes or tears. Rusty was taken away, someplace safer than what they could provide and he would wait there until the trial. The citizens of the great city of Los Angeles continued to kill one another and they went back to work. There were more bodies. More witnesses. Crime scenes to document. And they were professionals. So they were supposed to relegate Rusty to just another case file. Just another piece of evidence. But they couldn’t. Not this time. This time they couldn’t keep the world at arms length. This time there would be no getting away unscathed. 

* * *

Morales had a tattoo of a skull on his ribs. Buzz had been a little shocked the first time he saw it. He would never have thought him the type to get a tattoo. “It’s one of Da Vinci’s diagrams,” he’d said. “I got it during med school. I thought it was deep, or something.”

Even in the dark, Buzz found it easily, reaching out and slipping his fingers beneath the hem of his sweatshirt. Morales grabbed for his wrist but didn’t push him away.

"What did we say about that?” 

Since that first night Buzz couldn’t help it. He would be working, or supposed to be working, and if Morales was in the same room he would zero in on that spot. He could envision the skin just beneath his clothes. Remembered the way it felt beneath his fingers, beneath his mouth.

Buzz retracted his hand. “I’m sorry. I just... I was hoping, I don’t know. Never mind.”

Morales had said he was suspicious of people without at least one tattoo. It said something about their ability to commit. Buzz didn’t have any tattoos.

“Ok.” He sighed through the dark. “Ok ok ok...” And suddenly Morales heat was close by. He pulled Buzz to his chest. And with his fingers gently threading through his hair Buzz was pulled into sleep.

 


End file.
